


To the Edge and Back

by EverTheDreamer



Category: Reba - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-31
Updated: 2007-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:18:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverTheDreamer/pseuds/EverTheDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Brock doesn't come home after one of their fights, Reba's whole life is turned upsidedown as she deals with having to hold her family together after their latest fight. She just keeps telling herself that he loves her and he'll come home eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Maybe I should get my own place, so I can leave the toaster out!" Brock threatened angrily.

"Maybe you should," Reba retorted, much more calmly than either of them had anticipated.

Brock stared at his wife, waiting for her to snatch back her words and apologize. When she didn't, he picked up his coat from the back of his chair and took a few steps towards the door. "Okay, then. I'll start looking at places today," he told her, slowly opening the back door.

"Brock-"

He turned, suppressing a grin of triumph. He knew she wouldn't let him leave. She loved him too much, even if she didn't necessarily need him the way he wished she did. She would apologize now, any second, and he would hug her and leave for work. All would be fine in the Hart household, though it wouldn't take much to launch the couple back into a fight. But, for the day, all would be fine.

"-If you walk out that door, you're not coming back," Reba informed him, stony-faced.

"Fine," Brock nodded in disbelief, walking through the door. She was _letting_ him leave. He closed the door behind him, pausing momentarily to see if she would open the door and come after him. _She'll cool off_ , he told himself when she didn't rush after him.

"What are you doing? Go after him!" Cheyenne screeched at her mother, running into the kitchen. Having heard the whole fight, Cheyenne was concerned that her father was never coming back.

"He'll be back," Reba said, sounding much more confident than she felt.

"But you said that if he left, he couldn't come back," Cheyenne reasoned.

"No, I was just… Saying that to scare him," Reba admitted to her daughter. "He'll be back." She gingerly fingered the dishrag she was holding. "He'll be back," she repeated. She couldn't be certain if she was trying to convince Cheyenne or herself.

Cheyenne shook her head as if saying that she disapproved of her mother allowing her father to leave the house angry. She turned to leave.

"Make sure your brother and sister are about ready," Reba instructed her eldest daughter while still fingering the dishrag. She was unable to tear her focus from it.

Cheyenne made a noise of affirmation as she walked out of the kitchen.

Reba stood at the sink, staring at the dishrag, lost in thought.

"What's for breakfast, mom?" Jake asked, sitting at the table as his sisters entered behind him.

Cheyenne nudged Kyra and motioned towards their unblinking, unmoving mother as if to _See?_

Kyra nodded and moved past her sister. "Cereal," she answered for her mother.

Cheyenne nodded as well, moving to help her sister with the bowls. "What kind do you want, Jake?"

"Cheerios!"

Cheyenne nodded, pouring the cereal and milk into a bowl and carrying it to her brother.

The girls prepared their own cereal and ate silently, taking turns shooting pointed, worried glances at their mother.

"Mom?" Jake said, breaking the silence and jolting his mother out of her detaches state of mind, "what did you pack for lunch?"

"Oh! Jake!" Reba sighed, dropping the dishcloth and looking at her watch. "Cheyenne? Reach in my purse and get yourselves money for lunch, please? The buss will be here and minute. Hurry!"

Cheyenne nodded and did as her mother instructed. She then herded her siblings out of the kitchen, pausing only to cast one last worried over her shoulder at her mother.

Reba hurriedly collected the dishes from that morning's breakfast, placing them in the sink as she turned on the hot water and squeezed dish detergent over them. She stared at Brock's place at the table as she picked up the dishrag she'd dropped and began absentmindedly washing the dishes.

Her mind quickly went back to what she'd been focused on since Brock had walked out the back door: Whether or not he'd come back.

 _He's not stupid enough to throw away a twenty year marriage_ , she thought. _It was just a stupid, little fight._

"He'll be back," she told the empty house. "He will."

Reba finished the dishes and set about doing her other daily chores around the house.

"He'll be back," she told herself as she made her son's bed.

"Same time as always." She made Kyra's bed.

"Right after work." She made Cheyenne's.

"Five thirty, just like always," she said, finishing making her own bed and beginning to separate her daughters' laundry.

Darks, colors, whites, delicates. "Back in time for dinner."

Reba separated her son's wash before separating her own and Brock's.

She threw the whites into the washer before walking through the kitchen. She stopped, eyeing the toaster.

She picked it up, preparing to put it away. "No," she decided. "He'll put it away if… When. When he gets home."

She walked back into the family room and sat down, staring off into space as her mind wandered.

 _What if he doesn't? What if he decides that he can get along without you or the kids?_

 _What do you do if he just changes everything in your life? He's the breadwinner. You'd have to go back to work. He has the secure job, he could take the kids. He could take the house._

 _He could take everything you care about, without even trying._

 _His love, Cheyenne, Kyra, Jake, the house._

 _Without trying._

 _Life without your family…. Is that even worth living? You would have nothing to live for. What kind of mother and wife gets left? Not a good one._

"No," Reba argued as she stood. She drew her bathrobe tighter.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, surprised. "I'm still wearing my bathrobe!" She shook her head, forcing herself to laugh.

She put the whites in the dryer and rushed up the stairs to take a shower, catching sight of the time as she passed the living room clock.

Half past three.

She jumped into the shower and began washing her hair.

"Two hours," she told herself, rinsing the shampoo from her hair.

"He'll be back." She roughly towel-dried her hair as she walked to the washer and threw in the darks.

She checked her watch. Quarter to five. _If I start dinner now,_ she reasoned, _it should be done right when he gets home._

She remembered that, in her absent-minded state that morning, she had forgotten to take the pork chops out to thaw. "Crap," she sighed. "Well, we could always go out to dinner. Or order in. Brock does love when we order Chinese food."

"Who are you talking to, Mom?" Cheyenne asked, concerned, as she walked into the kitchen, looking around.

"Oh," Reba laughed at herself as she took out the Chinese order-menu. "I was just thinking aloud. What do you think about ordering Chinese tonight?"

"I would love to, but Van and I were actually thinking of going to a movie and I figured we could just pick up something on the way. Do you mind?"

"Oh," Reba sighed. "Of course not, dear. Don't be back too late."

Cheyenne nodded happily. "Alright! Oh, actually, I was thinking he could just drop me off at Brittany's. We had to work on a drill. I am co-captain, after all." She waited for her mother to nod. When she finally did, Cheyenne squealed happily, "I'm just gonna run and get changed. he should be here any minute. Thanks, mom!" She bounded out of the kitchen happily.

"Okay, dinner for four, then."

"Make that three," Kyra said, walking into the room. "I have to go over Jenny's house. We have a project to do."

"It can't wait just a day?" Reba asked, exasperated. She never liked not having her whole family together for meals.

"Mom, it's due Monday."

"Fine," Reba sighed. "Go to Jenny's."

"Thanks, mom! Her mom can pick me up and I figured I'd just sleep over since it's Friday."

"Fine," Reba repeated to her daughter's retreating back.

"Mom?" Jake said as he entered through the back door.

"Yes, Jake," Reba said evenly, knowing what was coming. "You can go to Kyle's house for the evening."

"Really? Cool!" Jake exclaimed, running back out of the house. He stopped. "And, mom? Can I-"

"-Sleepover. Fine."

At this, Jake exited the house, yelling, "She said yes!"

"It's better this way," Reba told herself as she angrily folded the menu back up. "Brock and I needed to talk. We'll just have a quiet evening with the two of us. We can go out for Chinese. It's better this way."

Reba stuffed the folded menu back in it's place in the drawer by the phone and walked up the stairs. _Brock has always liked me in green. I'll wear the green sweater he gave me for our last anniversary. And we'll go to his favorite restaurant. And we'll talk._

Reba eyed the clock as she pulled the sweater on. Twenty after five. _Crap._ She yanked off her old jeans and hurriedly pulled a simple black skirt over her hips.

5:25.

She raced down the stairs and began straightening the living room.

 _He'll be here. Five minutes. He'll walk in, I'll kiss him and ask him how his day was, then I'll tell him that, as soon as he gets changed, we're going out. We make it a romantic evening. We almost never have time for just the two of us._

5:35.

 _Traffic,_ Reba told herself as she played with the ends of her sleeves and stared at the door, waiting for it to open.

Waiting for her husband to walk through the door, like always.

Quarter of five.

 _He's just a little late. It's not the end of the world. He is going to stroll through that door in the next five minutes._

"Mom, you look nice! Did you and dad make up? You two going out? That's awesome!" Cheyenne commented in passing as she waved goodnight to her mother. "I'll be back around noon tomorrow."

"Bye, dear," Reba closed the gap as she nodded at her daughter. She looked hopefully over Cheyenne's shoulder as she shut the door behind her oldest child, but Brock's car still wasn't in the driveway.

Reba opened the door as her younger daughter bounded down the stairs, "Bye, Kyra."

"Bye, mom!"

Reba, again, looked hopefully past her child but only saw an empty driveway.

Reba sighed and closed the door before crossing to the couch. She hugged a pillow to her chest as she stared at the door, periodically checking her watch.

Six o'clock.

 _What if something is wrong? I wouldn't ever be able to forgive myself if something happened and this morning was the conversation we had!_ Reba told herself, picking up the phone and dialing his office.

"Thank you for choosing the dental practices of Doctor Brock Ha-rt," Reba heard an annoyingly chipper voice say.

"Hi. I'd like to speak with my husband," Reba impatiently told the voice.

"We're not here to take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number, we'll get back to you so you can schedule an appointment. Thanks for calling and have a tee-rific day!"

Reba sighed as she replaced the phone in its cradle.

She picked it up again and dialed his cell.

"Hey, You've reached Brock Hart. I'm sorry I can't take your call right now, but if you leave your name, number, and a brief message, I'll be sure to get back to you as soon as I can," she heard his voice say after she'd let the line ring four or five times.

"Hello, Brock. This is your wife calling. It's… It's Reba," she said into the receiver, her voice breaking as she realized how cold she sounded. She quickly composed herself. "It's a little after six and you aren't home yet. So, I hope you're on your way. I was just a tad concerned, so I thought I'd check to see if you were okay. Call me back if you get this before you get home. But you should be home soon, so it shouldn't be an issue. Call me a worry-wart, but I wanted to make sure you were okay."

She replaced the phone in its cradle, whispering, "I love you, Brock."

She stared at the phone, unsure of who to call next top make sure her husband was safe.

 _I'm gonna make sure he's okay, then I'm gonna kill him for scaring me so dang much,_ Reba told herself.

 _He's not coming,_ a voice in the back of her mind nagged.

She hugged the pillow closer to her as she tucked her knees under her, staring at the door, "He is. He'll be home."

"Mom?" Cheyenne asked, opening the door the following afternoon. "Are you wearing what you had on last night? What happened?"

Reba blinked furiously, trying to wake herself up. She stretched to the side to peer out the door.

Brock's car was still missing.

"I… Your father…" she stumbled.

"Did he not come home?" her daughter asked, her tone more serious. "Were you waiting all night?"

"No! 'Course not! I just… I was too exhausted when we got home last night. So, I just stayed on the couch. We got home awfully late. And he had taken me dancing. I was just too tired. I just insisted he let me stay on the couch."

Cheyenne turned and looked outside. "Dad's car isn't there."

Reba stood up and stretched before crossing to stand beside her daughter. "You didn't let me finish. This morning, he had to run to work."

Cheyenne looked at her mother, doubt clearly etched in her face. "Well, okay. If you say so," she said, still not convinced.

Reba nodded, a fake smile plastered to her face. "If you get ready for the day, I'll make lunch. Your siblings should be home soon. Run upstairs and get dressed, okay?"

Cheyenne nodded reluctantly and ran up the stairs.

 _He didn't come home_ , Reba thought. The full weight of the realization hitting her. Tears pooled in her eyes as she stared out the door at the empty driveway.

She moved to wipe them away, to hide her pain, but one stubborn tear managed to slide down her cheek before she could do so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are you going to do now? How will you support yourself and the kids? What if he takes the kids? What will you do if he doesn't come back? a voice nagged at Reba as it had everyday since Brock had left almost a week ago.

_What are you going to do now? How will you support yourself and the kids? What if he takes the kids? What will you do if he doesn't come back?_ a voice nagged at Reba as it had everyday since Brock had left almost a week ago.

 _Wedding vows are supposed to_ mean _something!_ she thought bitterly as she laid awake in bed and stared at the ceiling, fingering her wedding band.

It was nearly noon and she knew the kids needed rides, assuming it was Saturday. Ever since Brock had left, she'd lost track of the days of the week.  
Cheyenne had drill team.  
Kyra had concert band rehearsal for school.  
Jake had soccer practice. Or maybe it was a game.  
And still, she couldn't bring herself to get out of bed.

She'd ordered take-out for the kids' dinner everyday that week; she, herself, didn't eat.

She just laid in bed and cried, unable to care about anything else.  
The house was in disarray and badly needed cleaning.  
The laundry was piling up.  
The toaster still hadn't been put away and she couldn't keep the tears from welling up in her eyes every time she saw it.

 _He's going to come back,_ she told herself. _He has to._

"He'll be home," she'd told the kids when ever-observant Kyra had asked where their father was when he hadn't come home by the third day after their fight. "He's at a dental convention."

"It's not on the calendar," Kyra had argued, eyeing the master calendar by the kitchen phone.

"I forgot to write it. Don't worry!"

It'd been more difficult to give reasons for her constant weeping and lying around the house.

"Mom, what's _wrong?"_ Cheyenne had accosted her in the hall on day four when Reba had left the sanctity of her room due to using her last box of tissues.

"I'm just not feeling well," Reba had said to excuse herself.

"Mom, you kept the house spotless and had dinner on the table by five when you were 'bed-ridden' with the flu," Cheyenne had responded, not convinced.

Reba paused, unable to tell her oldest daughter what she longed to say. _Cheyenne, your father left us-left me. And now, it's a struggle everyday not to swallow every pill in the house and put a plastic bag over my head. It's a struggle not to hang myself._ She couldn't bring herself to admit to her child that she needed help.  
"I don't need your judgement!" Reba had uncharacteristically snapped as she grabbed a new box of tissues before heading back to her room, determined to carry this burden alone.

The only time she left her room was at night when she slept on the couch, still waiting-praying-for Brock to walk though the door. She would wait until the kids were asleep before creeping down the stairs to sit on the chair facing the door to curl up and sleep. Then, she'd retreat back to her room before the kids woke up for the day.

"Mom?" Cheyenne said, knocking as she opened the door.

Reba barely moved her head to acknowledge her daughter's presence.

Cheyenne, however, took that as an answer and continued. "I called Van. He said he'll drive me an Kyra to the school and we'll drop Jake off at soccer practice and he'll pick us up and take us to our friends', if you're sure you don't mind us going." Part of her hoped her mother would say no, that she wanted them home for dinner at five sharp. She couldn't stand seeing her mother so defeated. She had a terrible, sinking feeling that her father had left them, but her mother kept denying it.

 _So it_ is _Saturday,_ Reba thought, nodding feebly at her daughter before staring out the window.

"Alright, mom. See you tomorrow after dinner, then. I love you. Feel better," Cheyenne said, closing the door behind her.

 _Already they're drifting away from me,_ Reba thought as she heard the front door slam. _When they find out I drove their father away, they'll never forgive me._

Reba sighed as she hoisted herself out of bed, "What's the point?"

She looked around the house, not caring despite the mess, as she wearily wakled to the kitchen.

 _He's not coming back,_ she thought as she removed a tea cup from the cabinet. _So What's the point?_

She put the teacup on the counter before picking up the teapot.

"Dang it!" she exclaimed as she knocked the teacup to the floor when she had turned to the sink to fill the teapot. She finished filling the teapot and placed it on the heating stovetop. Then she knelt beside the broken glass to clean it up.

"Dang it!" she cried out in pain when she inadvertently cut her hand on a large piece of broken glass, drawing her hand back. "Not too bad," she said, examining her wound. "Worse than a graze, but it'll be just fine."

 _You could end it now_. _Just a slice across each wrist and you could end it. Brock would have to come back and care for the kids. The kids would have a parent who doesn't drive people away, a parent who doesn't just lay around the house and weep. And you would have that peace. Just a simple cut._ Reba reached for the broken glass, craving the sweet release it could bring.

The tea kettle whistled to signal that the water was done boiling causing Reba to draw her hand back instinctively.

 _What am I doing?_ she asked herself. _I can't do this. I can't. I need to be strong for the kids. He'll be back. Brock will come back and everything will be fine. He'll come home and I won't feel this way anymore. I just need to get him home and keep him here._

Reba stood and began backing away from the temptation of the sweet release promised by the broken glass. She pushed herself away, pushing against the counter top for momentum, her hand landing on a tea bag. She closed her fist around it as she forced herself to walk out of the kitchen.

She began her trek into the living room to give herself time to shake herself out of it before cleaning up the glass but was stopped in her tracks by the sight of the front door swinging open. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared, a mixture of elation and anger in her heart.

Brock stood in the doorway, two bags in hand as he stared sheepishly back at her. He clearly had not anticipated her being home.

She started to run to him, arms outstretched, but slowed as she reached the couch and remembered the pain she'd felt that week. Pain he was responsible for. Her pace slowed to a walk as she lowered her arms to her sides and stopped just in front of him.

"You came back," she stated simply."

"Yeah," Brock said, not meeting her gaze.  
He wanted to tell her how he'd slept in a sleazy motel.  
He wanted to tell her he'd picked up the phone a dozen times a day and tried to make that call but couldn't face her.

Reba shifted her weight awkwardly from foot to foot as she fidgeted with the teabag she was still holding. "I wasn't sure if you would."

Brock dropped his bags to the floor. "Yeah," he answered lamely.

Reba turned away from him and crossed to sit on the couch. "You didn't come home last week," she stated as if he didn't know.

"Um..." Brock began as he shut the door behind him, searching for words. "No." He crossed to the couch as well and sat beside her. He clapped his hands on his knees in an attempt to work off the nervous energy that had encompassed him.

"I waited up for you," Reba admitted, looking at him.

"I'm sorry," he told her, feeling her eyes upon him as he refused to meet her gaze.

"I waited up for you," she repeated.

"I know. I'm sor-" Brock began, growing frustrated.

"Every night since you left," Reba interrupted.

When Brock looked up, he saw tears in her eyes. "Don't cry," he cooed, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry."

"I thought that you'd left me," Reba cried into his shirt as she relived what had transpired not five minutes earlier in the kitchen. "I thought you'd never come back. I thought that I'd lost you."

Brock hugged Reba tighter and rubbed her back in soothing circles.  
He'd never been good with crying women. That was one of the reasons he had found it so easy to let himself just completely fall for Reba. She was strong. She never cried.  
He kissed her tenderly, hoping to assure her wordlessly that all would be fine.

 _Get him home and keep him here,_ Reba repeated in her mind as she returned his kiss hungrily. She desperately wanted any reason to keep herself in his arms. She didn't want to let him go, didn't want him to leave her sight, for fear he might leave again.

Brock was surprised but didn't pull back as Reba deepened the kiss and pulled him onto her. She parted her lips, granting him entrance to her mouth, as she moaned quietly in the back of her throat.

"Reba, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, pulling away before he went any further.  
He knew she wasn't normally one for make-up sex. She preferred to talk everything out and not have sex until there were no hard feelings on either side. She preferred 'making love'.

"I want," Reba began as she stood up and took his hand with both of hers and pulled him up, "whatever will make you happy. I love you." She wanted any for of reassurance that this was real, that he hadn't let her and that he never would.

Brock nodded in response as Reba led him to their bedroom, not taking her eyes off of him the whole time.

She pulled him against her when they reached the top of the stairs and kissed him deeply. _Anything to keep him here_.

Brock deepened the kiss as he lifted Reba up and she unthinkingly wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to their room, never breaking their kiss, and fumbled slightly with the door knob before pushing the door open and laying her on the bed.

 __

 _Anything to keep him in my arms. Then I know he's not leaving._

Brock pulled back as he fiddled with his sports coat, trying to remove it while simultaneously kicking off his shoes.

Reba quickly grew anxious and impatient as he stood before her.  
 _In my arms,_ she repeated in her mind.  
She kneeled on the bed and grabbed his tie, pulling him close to her and into another kiss. She removed his sports coat as she deepened the kiss and used her grip on his tie to pull him with her as she fell backward onto the bed.

 __

 _As long as I can see him and feel him, I know this is real. I know he hasn't left me, that he won't take the house and the kids._

Brock broke their kiss and looked deeply into Reba's eyes. "Are you sure?" Brock forced himself to ask her again.  
At this point, he would have hated to stop, but he didn't want her to feel forced to have sex.

"Brock," Reba began, forcing the sadness that had engulfed her entire being for the past week from her eyes and voice, "I am positive. I love you. What on earth would make you question my wanting to make love to you?"

"Well, you're just never this forward. I just want to make sure you really want to do this."

"Do you not want to make love?" Reba asked with a fake pout on her face. "Are you not enjoying this?

"Of course I do! And I am!"

"Well, you just now said so yourself that you're enjoying this. Why can't we just make love? Don't you like my being forward?" Reba asked him. She had to keep herself from asking if they could just get this over with.

"Of course I do!" Brock stammered. "You're… I mean, I am… You're really, _really_ turning me on! I was just-"

Reba smiled seductively as she walked her fingers to the zipper of is pants. "Brock?" she said, cutting him off. He looked at her. "Stop talking."

Reba pulled Brock into another passionate kiss as she continued to remove his pants with nervous hands. She broke the kiss long enough to pull his shirt over his head.

Brock took this opportunity to pull Reba's robe from her body and tossing it behind them. He then roughly kissed her as he untied the pajama bottoms that she had been wearing and slid them down her legs. Breaking the kiss, he pulled her white tank over her head before leaning in and kissing her neck and sucking on her collar bone, eliciting a deep moan of pleasure from the redhead.

"Brock!" Reba moaned loudly as she arched her back. "The things you do to me!"  
 _Make him feel important and needed and powerful_ , she told herself as she overreacted to every touch by moaning loudly. _  
Anything to keep your life together._

Brock smiled, thoroughly pleased with himself for reducing this strong woman to the needy, moaning mass beneath him. He took such pride in making her moan so. _I'm the only one who can do this to her. The only one who can make her moan like this,_ he thought smugly. He slid a hand between her thighs, making her scream out once more.

"Brock," she moaned as she spread her legs widely allowing him any access he needed. "Oh, God! Brock!" She gripped the headboard tightly.

He repositioned himself atop her as he kissed her deeply.

Hours later, Reba sat with her knees tucked beneath her in the armchair facing their bed. She stared at her peacefully slumbering husband as she bit her thumbnail. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she thought about what she had just done.

 _Anything to keep him_ , she told herself, feeling unclean.

She had let him touch her, allowed him inside of her, despite the anger she still felt towards him. And all for what?

 _To keep him_ , she answered. _That was a primal act of sex. That was far from making love. But he'd been so happy, so into it. He'd enjoyed it so much._

"Even if that's what it takes," she whispered. "I'll do it to keep him. I don't care."

She cradled her face in her hands as her mind flashed, again, to what she ahd just done.

She had actually allowed him to roll themselves over. She had actually _ridden_ him as guided by his trembling, close to climax hands as he closed his eyes and panted and screamed her name. She had actually allowed his trembling hands to guide her 'riding' until he climaxed.  
For the third time.

They didn't even go at it that long when she was pleased with him.

"I don't care," she repeated louder than she had intended. "I'll do anything to keep him in my arms!"

She hugged herself, her arms grazing her still tender breasts.

She remembered how animalistic he had grown as they reached neared their second full hour. He clearly had begun realizing that he as going to get away with anything at the moment as she had roughly squeezed and pinched her breasts and nipples as he came for the fourth time. She had forced herself to gasp and moan his name loudly in response, despite how painful it had been.  
"Anything."

"Reba, honey…?" Brock said, sitting up bleary-eyed. "What are you doing up? You're not ready and raring to go _again,_ are you?"

Reba saw the hope and longing in his face, heard it in his voice as he spoke. She forced a seductive smile as she stood on shaky legs and dropped her robe. "I am if you are…" She fought the bile rising in her throat as she said the next word, "…Cowboy." She climbed into bed with him.

 _Anything to keep him from leaving me again. Anything to keep that little voice promising peace away,_ she thought as he ran his hands all over her body. He squeezed her breasts and she bit back a whimper of pain. He kissed her neck as he guided her hands to his erection.

 __

 _Anything._


	3. To the Edge and Back Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reba crawled out of bed, refusing to look over at the sleeping form that was Brock, and scurried to the bathroom.

Reba crawled out of bed, refusing to look over at the sleeping form that was Brock, and scurried to the bathroom.

 _What have you become?_ Reba asked her reflection in the mirror.

Tears had already begun to swim behind her eyes and there were pronounced bags beneath her eyes.

"Brock is back," she told her reflection firmly. "That's what's important."

 _But for how long?_ the voice nagged.

"Stop it," Reba demanded. She turned on the shower and climbed in. "Stop it this instant. He's not leaving. He is not leaving me again. I won't let him."

 __

You didn't exactly "let him" the first time, did you?

"Stop it!" Reba sobbed, her tears mingling with the water streaming down. She slid down and hugged her knees to her chest. "Stop it, stop, stop it!"

"Reba?" Brock called from the bedroom.

Reba stiffened and stood up, "Yes? What- um... What do you need, honey?"

"You okay in there, babe?"

"Fine! I'm fine!" Reba lied. "Why do you ask?"

"Just- I thought I heard you say something," Brock answered, entering the bathroom. "Are you going somewhere today, Reb?"

"No. I just thought I'd get an early start. Make you breakfast, maybe," Reba forced a smiled into her voice.

"Breakfast? For me? Aw, babe! That's so sweet. Though... I can think of a hunger I'd prefer to satisfy that has nothing to do with a meal," Brock hinted.

"Oh? And what would that be?" Reba asked, feigning ignorance.

"Well... Let's just say that it would be satisfied by a continuation of yesterday's activities," Brock smiled.

"And when did you want to resume these..." Reba fought back bile. "'Activities'?"

 _A sex object. That's what you've become,_ Reba answered her earlier question. _You're not his friend and partner. You're his... Concubine. His whore._

"Well, I'm ready, willing, and able whenever you are. Now, if you don't mind my interrupting your shower."

"Now? Of course I don't mind, dear!"

He'd ripped open the curtain even before she finished the sentence.

"Oh, Reba," he kissed her neck, pressing her against the shower tile.

 _Do not cry,_ Reba commanded herself. "Brock," she breathed.

He lifted one of her legs and wrapped it around his waist as he pressed into her. She whimpered as she attempted to force back tears but his grunt of pleasure drowned out her cry.

The water's beating against his back didn't affect him at all as he lifted her other leg as well and pinned her easily against the tile. Brock kissed and bit at Reba's neck between his slightly muffled moans.

"Are-you-okay?" Brock asked again as he thrusted.

Reba nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Are you-enjoying-this-at all?"

"What? Of course I am!"

Brock stopped mid-thrust, "Reba, you haven't made a single noise. And... Are you... Crying?"

"Don't be silly!"

"Reba-"

"Brock, please? Could we just-?"

"Reba, not one part of you is interested. This is ridiculous," Brock put his wife down in a less than gentle manner as he disentangled himself and stepped out of the shower.

"Brock? No! Come back! Please?" Reba turned off the shower and spotted the gash the teacup had left on her wrist. _Without him, I have nothing._ She ran after him.

"'Come back'? I don't want pity sex. Jesus, Reba! If you didn't want to, why didn't you just say so?"

"No!" Reba grabbed his wrist as he reached for his underwear drawer. "Brock! Please?"

He roughly pulled his arm out of her grasp before grabbing a pair of underwear and sitting on the bed.

"No!" Reba cried, she knelt in front of him and took his boxers from him.

"Stop it, Reba. I don't have time for this. I should really get to the office."

Reba scrambled for an idea to keep her husband at home. _Sex,_ she realized. _He'll stay for sex._ She put a hand on his chest and another on his knee. "You don't have time," she pouted seductively, "to finish what we started?"

"Reba, what are you talking about?" Brock demanded.

She opened his legs and moved between them so that she could kiss his chest. "Relax." She kissed her way down his chest before pushing him backward so that he was lying on the bed.

"Reba, wha-?" Brock began, leaning on his elbows.

"Shush," the redhead instructed before licking down his hard shaft. _Do not let him leave,_ Reba told herself.

Brock moaned and grabbed fistfuls of Reba's wet hair as he slid back into a lying position.

Reba fought back her gag reflex as Brock guided her head and practically forced more of himself down her throat.

This was too much for Reba. She'd never given a 'blowjob,' though she knew Brock had always wanted her to give him one. The whole idea thoroughly disgusted her and struck her as humiliating and degrading. She pulled back slightly only to have Brock pull her head closer.

"Oh, Reba! Fuck!" Brock cried as he came without warning. His grip on Reba's hair tightened so Reba couldn't pull away, forcing her to swallow.

 _Oh, God!_ Reba thought, feeling as though she would vomit. Finally, Brock relinquished his hold on Reba ' hair and she pulled away.

"God, Reba, that was un-fucking-believable!"

She crawled next to him on the bed and forced a smile, "Still determined to go to the office?"

"Hell no!" Brock exclaimed. "Come here, babe." He pulled her onto him so that she was straddling him. "Lemme see if I can return the favor."

 __

Keep him home.

"Mom?" Reba heard Cheyenne yell as the front door slammed shut. "We came home early!"

Wide-eyed, Reba rolled off her husband and scampered to the bathroom. "The kids! Cover yourself up, Brock!" He jumped off the bed and into the bathroom after his wife.

"Mom? Did you even get out of bed?" Cheyenne asked as she hurried up the steps. "Please say you did!"

Cheyenne opened her parents' bedroom door and peered in, fully expecting to see her mother still lying in bed, staring out the window. "Mom?"

"I'm in here," Reba answered, waving her uninjured hand as she opened the bathroom door a crack.

"Oh, my God! Mom! Are you okay? What happened?" Kyra demanded, running into the room.

Hearing her daughter's panic, Reba grabbed her robe and wrapped it tightly around herself before hurrying out to her youngest daughter. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Mom!" Kyra hugged her mother's waist and knocked the air from her chest.

"What is it?" Reba gasped, hugging her daughter back.

"I saw the glass and the blood and I thought... I didn't know. I was scared!" Kyra buried her face in her mother's fluffy green robe, tears evident.

"What?" Cheyenne questioned, concerned.

"I had a little accident," Reba explained, shrugging it off.

"Let me see."

"Cheyenne, I'm fine."

"Mom!"

"Girls," Brock began, exiting the bathroom in a flannel-looking robe that was his own, "your mother is fine."

"Daddy!" both girls cried, rushing to embrace him, forgetting their mother and her wound.

"What's going on?" Jake asked, finally entering the room.

"Jake! My main man!" Brock scooped up his son.

Reba smiled, despite the pain she felt in her heart. _Their father has returned. They don't need you anymore._

"Stop it," Reba silently commanded the voice. Despite her demands, Reba took the words to heart.

 __

And how long until he leaves again, bringing the kids with him? The kids wouldn't want to stay with the woman who drove their father away and then became a wreck.

But Reba ignored her pain and went through the motions.

She went downstairs and cleaned up the glass and blood before preparing breakfast.

She smiled when Brock spoke to her and answered accordingly.

She smiled and answered when the kids spoke to her.

She cooked and cleaned, keeping the house impeccable.

Anything and everything she can to keep the voice quiet.

And at the end of each day, she crawled into bed beside her husband and curled close to him. "I love you," she would whisper before turning out the light.

Day after day, for weeks, this carried on. Reba forbade herself to think or feel anything and she just went through the motions and all her "wifely duties."

And it was killing her inside.

 __

Does he even love you?

"He does," Reba told the voice sternly.

 __

For how long?

"'Till death do us part.'"

"Reba, I- We need to talk," Brock finally said one night, reaching over and turning the light back on.

"I don't-what?" Reba asked, sensing what was coming. Her stomach dropped and the color drained from her face. _The voice was right._

"Reba, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"Well, Reba, I-"

"Dang it, Brock! Stop saying my name like that!" Reba yelled, unable to face what was to come.

"Like what, Reba?"

"Like we're in college and breaking up! This isn't college. We're married."

"I want- I think... We need some time apart."

Tears stung at Reba's eyes despite her having sensed just this. _No! "_ What?"

"I think we could use a break," Brock repeated.

"Why?" Reba demanded, getting out of bed. "Why do we 'need a break'? What have I done? I have _killed_ myself cooking and cleaning for you. I have _literally_ bent over backwards to please you in bed. Why?"

"Nothing long term, of course," Brock continued, dodging the question. "I'll just stay in the condo I rented before."

"What? You have... What?" Reba thundered. "I...? Why?"

"We just really need some time apart, so I took the iniative so that you wouldn't have to move out of my house. That way it'll be easier on you."

"'Your house'?"

"That's not what I meant."

"How long have you been planning this, Brock? Just answer me that," Reba demanded, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Reba, don't cry. Some time apart will really help," Brock circled his arms around his wife's waist.

"Don't touch me," Reba pulled away. "Get away from me. Get... Get out."

"Reba-!"

"I can't... Can't even _look_ at you. Get out. Please. Just... Go." Tears slid down Reba's cheeks as she sat on the armchair facing the window and pulled her knees to her chest.

 _Brock!_ Reba silently screamed. _Don't leave me! Please! You can't. I need you!_

Reba heard Brock back away from her and close the bedroom door behind himself as she stared out the window. The last thing she saw before she cried herself to sleep was his taillights round the corner and out of sight.


End file.
